The Sharpest Lives
by Destruction's Daughter
Summary: Hecate feels the BWL isn't protected well enough, so she sends Nico di Angelo out to help him! But what happens when the GT friendship starts falling apart? When Nico's past comes back to haunt him? What's Harry been hiding all this time? Sort-of post Giant War, HBP. Non canon references, mild Ron, Hermione & Dumbles bashing, powerful Harry, kick-ass demigods. Insanity, Dark themes
1. Intro

**Harry Potter and The Ghost King**

**So, this is an idea I've been harbouring for a while, and I want to see how it works out. I'll tell you how I came by it, and if you want to skip straight to the need-to-know, skip the next paragraph. K.**

**If you've read or seen the movie for The Half-Blood Prince, you'll know that young Voldemort looks a lot like our favourite emo, Nico di Angelo. You know, pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes, handsome (because we all know Nico is hot) et cetera. Also, Nico is a child of Hades, and so is slightly 'dark', if you get my meaning, so the GT would probably think him to be like Voldie's son, right? So I played on that as well as the title (you know, Nico's a half-blood, but also the Ghost King, and a prince is like a king so it works). **

**NEED TO KNOW FACTS ABOUT THE STORY:**

**Nico is two years younger in this then in canon, and Annabeth is a year younger then in canon.**

**This story takes place in 2014, making Percy 21, Annabeth 20, Jason 20, Piper 19 etc.**

**The pairing is all canon in both series, but I've put Nico with that daughter of Aphrodite Lacy.**

**Lacy is OOC in this, and looks different to fit parts of the plot.**

**Nico is also OOC in that I've made him more Last Olympian-esque (meaning he's sarcastic, witty and for some reason slightly cynical. Don't know why but it came out that way).**

**There is **_**mild**_** Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione bashing. But it is very mild. More just poking fun at them. Nothing major.**

**This disregards chapter XXXVI of HoH. Percy and Nico have a brotherly relationship. No more, no less.**

**This is set in the Half-Blood Prince and after/kind of in the Giant War.**

**I have added a war of my own creation into this that is kind of a by-product of the GW**

**This war is gruesome and contains scenes of torture (main reason for the M rating).**

**An awful lot of stuff has happened in the 4 years between what will happen in BoO and this story. Including the following:**

**A new camp called Camp Unity is built between the two pre-existing ones.**

**It has a city called the New Empire.**

**Camp Half-blood has a new city built much like New Rome called New Athens.**

**All of the characters have called a favour of Hecate to give them believable cover stories for when they're in the Mortal world. Only the demigods and their parents have these memories **_**and**_** the original ones. This makes any lies they happen to spin believable.**

**These memories contain dark themes such as drug and alcohol use, mentioned rape and murder (another reason for the M rating).**

**Percy and Annabeth are married with a three year old boy called Theseus and there are quadruplets on the way (no, I don't know why I did this, I just did. Please just go along with it.)**

**Piper and Jason are married. They have had one child that died, but Piper's about to have another.**

**Frank and Hazel are engaged.**

**Leo and Calypso are engaged.**

**In a bout of insanity, Octavian is nice and for some unknown reason dating Reyna. I found it fitting for some reason that even I have no idea about.**

**Nico, Percy, Jason and Frank went to the 2012 Olympics in London, and each won at least one event. **

**Nico holds the world record for the 100m and 200m sprint and is the youngest male Olympic gold medallist ever (if he did actually go to the Olympics, this would be true as his birthday is the 28th of January). He also went to the 2012 IAAF and took gold in both of the afore mentioned events.**

**Percy won gold in the 200m IM, 400m IM, 200m butterfly, 400m freestyle and several relays, holds world records for the 400m IM and 200m butterfly and won silver in several other races, breaking the world record of number of medals won in a single Olympics.**

**Jason won the men's high jump and came second in the triple jump. **

**Frank won gold in the hammer throw and shot-put**

**Piper and Lacy are supermodels for companies such as Abercrombie & Fitch.**

**Hazel is CEO of a majorly successful mining company.**

**Annabeth is the most successful and famous architect of her time.**

**Calypso is a professional chef.**

**Reyna is a member of the American government.**

**Leo runs a company that provides new technology called 'Delta'. It wiped companies such as Apple, Samsung and Microsoft off the map and has practically monopolized the industry.**

**That's all from me,**

**DD**

**P.S. I do not own PJO, HoO or HP. If I did, I'd be as rich as Hades, not in high school writing fan fiction.**

Nico sighed as he sat down on a bench in a graveyard - he couldn't tell exactly where he was. He had been half-asleep when he shadow-travelled (which, in hindsight, probably wasn't a good idea) so he wasn't sure whether he was in Topeka or Cincinnati - easy mistake to make. Ideally, he be in Topeka as it was closer to home, but it wasn't like he had any way of finding out where he was. Or how long he'd been out.

Shit.

Lacy was going to kill him.

And then, if by some miracle he survived that, Percy would kill him.

Then Hazel would resurrect his soul and kill him again.

But not before Annabeth tortured him.

Oh gods ... They'd get _Jason_ to come.

NO!

He couldn't allow Jason to humiliate him while he was dead!

Back on track.

Just as he was wondering what his epitaph would be, he caught a godly flash of light in his peripheral vision. Luckily he had enough control over his reactions to not look at it - that would have been disastrous. He just hoped it wasn't his dad. That would have been even worse.

But no. It was a lady with long golden hair and dark brown eyes.

_Hecate_, goddess of magic. Oh, and the patron of those whiny wizards. How on earth could he forget?

Okay, so not _all_ of them were that whiny, but a hell of a lot of them were! And evil. Definitely evil. Seriously, who dedicated to their time to create curses such as the Cruciatus? Not that his dad had minded. Hell, he'd loved that curse! And using it on him and Hazel. That couldn't be forgotten.

Yeah. He'd had a falling out with his dad, to put it mildly.

Then again, the wizards did have some pretty neat things.

Like the moving photographs (Nico himself had one of he and his family, as well as one of him and Lacy) and Occlumency and Ligilimency (which Nico and the rest of the Camps were Masters of).

Back to the point.

Turns out, Hecate had a somehow managed to make herself think that sending him on a quest to protect some Potter boy from a raving lunatic that should have died years ago and was almost as evil as his dad was a good idea. The worst part? It was in Britain.

Oh Joy.

It wasn't like he _hated_ Britain, per say. In fact, he'd been to London for the 2012 Olympics and found it quite nice. No, it was that, after Hecate had given them false, Mist-made memories, his father had been a British wizard by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Nico wasn't even sure if he was real, given that his two middle names (yes, he had two. It was something the di Angelo family had liked, so now every di Angelo had two middle names, Nico included) were remarkably similar to his (Thomas and Marvolo).

No, he didn't hate Britain. But, if Tom Marvolo Riddle _was_ a real person, then there was going to be a problem, 'cause he had no doubt he was evil. 

With Harry

Harry's nightmares were as bad as ever, if not worse. Recently, it wasn't Cedric's death that haunted him so much as Sirius's, but there was one aspect of his nightmares that remained as scarring as ever.

The boy.

The boy that had helped him escape the graveyard, and by extension Voldemort.

The boy that, if Voldemort's fury was any indication, was most likely dead because of it.

The boy that referred to Voldemort as 'Father'.

Once again, Harry woke with a start. As always, his memory of whatever his nightmare had been about this time was fuzzy, but the accusing light in the dark eyes of the boy seemed to be branded into the back of his eyelids.

Why hadn't Dumbledore done anything about it?

Harry knew the boy was on their side. He had done nothing but help Harry after Voldemort's rebirth - even tried to prevent it - and Harry had left him to face the brunt of Voldemort's fury.

And, as far as he was aware, Dumbledore hadn't even tried to help him.

Then again, perhaps he had.

Perhaps the boy was dead.

Perhaps he was just another person who had died because of Harry.

**Alright, me again. I **_**know**_** you didn't read that A/N at the start. The first paragraph isn't a must-read, but the list entitled NEED TO KNOW FACT ABOUT THE STORY needs to be read, as you may or may not have guessed by its title.**


	2. The Dudley Fiasco

**Chapter 2 - The Dudley Fiasco**

Even two weeks later, Nico wasn't sure what had possessed the goddess to send him, of all people, on a quest. It wasn't that he was surprised he was on a quest, he'd been on lots of them already. No, it was that this quest involved making _friends_. Nico didn't do _friends_. Sure, he'd made some friends - the Stoll brothers, for example (the three took mutual enjoyment in pranking Jason) - but he didn't want to make any more.

Also, he had to take a _plane_ to England! A _plane_! A godsdamn fucking _plane_. Zeus may be on better terms with him after his falling-out with his father and consequent reintroduction to regular society, but that didn't mean he _liked_ Nico, and, as such, he couldn't go on a plane.

At least he hadn't been alone, at least for the start.

You see, when Hecate had announced to the Camp that Nico was going on a quest to England, she said he needed to have a 'vaguely responsible chaperone'. Jason had volunteered, and Hecate had agreed.

Now, it wasn't that Nico didn't like Jason or anything, but Jason wasn't exactly his definition of a 'vaguely responsible chaperone'.

Of course, Percy had stood up and said that Nico couldn't do the quest if Jason managed to poison him with his atrocious cooking - which Nico had agreed wholeheartedly with - and so now Percy was there too. Actually, Percy's exact words were, 'I'm not leaving my little brother in the care of Jason, of all people, for two months. I don't want him coming back to America three days after leaving in a body bag 'cause Jason managed to poison him with his gods awful cooking'.

Needless to say, Jason had been highly affronted, but Nico had been rather thankful. He wasn't sure if he could survive more then a week alone with Jason.

Percy was making dinner, because it took two and a half hours to cook, and they always ate at six. Megadeth's _She-Wolf_ was playing from the kitchen, something that both Percy and Nico had outvoted Jason on.

As a result, Jason was now outside trying to make the garden nice.

So far, he'd done a pretty good job; thanks to a blessing from Demeter they'd all gotten (she had become far more friendly with him since his falling out with his father, and Persephone had kept in contact with him - after all, apart form Hazel, no-one else had been there to help him while he was still stuck with his father. Well, Lacy had, for a while, but that's a different story.)

They all decided to model it on Calypso's island, which Percy had remembered surprisingly well, considering it was him.

There had been several trees in the garden, but they didn't look as though they had bore fruit in a while. But now, there were cherry blossom trees bursting with little pink flowers, and apple trees filled with bright red, juicy goodness. Clumps of lavender and juniper sprung up around perfectly placed stones and filled the air with a beautiful smell that, when mixed with the smell of baking cookies, reminded Nico of home. There were bowers of flowing jasmine that surrounded a small fountain that was home to several naiads (it was much deeper then it looked, and led to an underground cavern, which Nico was _sure_ Hephaestus had had something to do with).

Towards the back, near the house, there was a small row of herbs, like parsnip and mint. Vines crept up the side of the house towards the flower pots filled with bluebells on the windowsill.

Moonlace sprung up in patches all around the garden, glowing with a faint, hope-inducing light.

It was larger then the rest of Privet Drive's front gardens, as the house was set slightly further back (this of course meant that their back garden was slightly smaller, but it didn't matter).

A narrow, winding gravel path cut through the garden, slicing it perfectly in half. The white picket fence that bordered the garden also bordered the path, with gates to lead to each half.

The creativeness of the garden was contradicted sharply by the plain interior of the house. They had tried to make it personal by putting up lots of pictures - they were moving ones, but they used the Mist so they would look stationary to any Mortals. There was one of the entire family - not extended family, of course, but Jason, Piper, Percy, Annabeth, Theo, Leo, Calypso, Hazel, Frank, Reyna, Octavian, Lacy and Nico - all smiling and waving at the camera, having the time of their lives. One had a grumpy, dripping wet Jason after Nico and the Stolls dumped him in the lake while Percy had conveniently looked in the opposite direction. Another had baby Theo, Percy and Annabeth shortly after Theo was born. Again, they all looked ecstatic. Percy had told Nico on multiple occasions that it was the happiest day of his life, on par with his wedding day and the day he and Annabeth had finally started dating.

An old grandfather clock stood ticking away the seconds at the end of the hall, near the old oak stairs, leading to the top floor. Nico's room was pretty plain - one black wall, the rest white. A double bed, two bedside tables. An electric guitar sat on a stand just to the left of the window, and to the right of an amp. One plain wardrobe was almost invisible - it was one of those renovated closets. The room wasn't overly neat, nor especially dirty. The only exceptions were a CD player, its neighbouring huge stack of CDs from bands like Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth, Iron Maiden etc and the picture on his bedside table. It was a copy of the one downstairs in the hallway of his family. They were pristine.

Let it never be said that Nico didn't appreciate good music, or his family.

While the house could be worse - it could be his father's place - Nico couldn't stand much longer in it. Grabbing his skateboard and a leather jacket, he walked out of Number Eight Privet Drive, calling that he'd be back before midnight, although what he'd be doing for the next eight hours eluded him.

Jason told him to have fun and to 'try not to die' and that it would be 'sucktastic if [he] did'.

Percy told him that he'd try and save him some dinner, but to not be disappointed if Jason managed to scoff it like the pig he is.

Jason threw a cushion at Percy.

Percy threw a steak knife at Jason.

That effectively ended the discussion.

Nico rolled his eyes and walked out the door.

How considerate his family was.

After just looking around the neighbourhood for a while (it was full of cookie-cutter houses with non-descript cars and simple paint jobs. The only difference was the gardens, which they seemed to compete over, although, in Nico's opinion, Number Four had the nicest, apart from theirs. That wasn't surprising, though, as he had seen a black-haired teenager slaving away in it for a few hours earlier. The rest of the members of the house looked like two whales and a horse who had never done manual labour in their lives) and buying himself a coffee - Cafe Nero was no Starbucks, but it was nearly as good, if way more expensive (not that he actually had to worry about that. He signed an autograph and the barista conveniently forgot he hadn't paid) - Nico found Mongolia Crescent Park.

It was, like the rest of the neighbourhood, annoyingly plain. Several adults narrowed their eyes and lead their children away from him when he entered. Nico rolled his eyes yet again. Honestly, he wasn't that odd. He was wearing simple black jeans, a black leather jacket and a Led Zeppelin shirt with Doc Martins and a skateboard. Evidently he was the Devil incarnate intent on corrupting their children and turning them into murdering thieves who were going to Hell when they died prematurely from alcohol and drug overdose with no money to pay for their funerals because they blew it all on parties and prostitutes. Dang that was one long sentence.

Back on track.

He supposed the bandages along his forearms could worry them, but, with one having been stabbed so hard it pierced an artery and the other having been almost completely skinned (left and right, respectively), he figured he had a right to wear them.

He saw that Polkiss kid from the next road smoking with the rest of the gang that Nico had dubbed 'the Big and Stupid', purely for the reason that Lacy would slap him upside the head if he called them what he dearly wanted to. She had been trying to break him of his bad swearing habit for a while now and had seemingly succeeded.

(Not that he wasn't swearing a lot in his head, but she didn't need to know that.)

The youngest whale of Number Four - who looked more like a cross between a gorilla and a pig up close, if gorilla/pig hybrids came in dumb blond - was picking on a few kids, and the slightly scrawny black-haired boy from the same house looked like he was going to blow up as he stormed over to them.

Nico took this as his cue to intervene.

"Is something wrong here?" he asked smoothly, sipping his coffee nonchalantly.

It was a really good coffee.

The pirilla - or would it be gorig? What do you call a gorilla/pig hybrids anyway? - whirled round and sneered at him, before his face morphing into one of shock and recognition. Nico wasn't surprised. Many sport brands and government-run companies paid him and his family big bucks to slap their names and faces on every bit of equipment or campaign they could ever produce. It resulted in annoying attention from the public, but it had its advantages - like getting a free coffee at Cafe Nero.

It really was a good coffee.

Knowing the press, there'd be a picture on the front page of the news tomorrow reading **The End of Starbucks? Nico di Angelo Seen Going to Rival Coffee Marketer Cafe Nero** or something of similar ridiculousness.

Anyway, the black-haired teenager seemed to either not recognise him, or just not care. Nico didn't know, and quite frankly didn't care.

"No," the pirilla practically squeaked. "Nothing at all."

Nico arched his eyebrow. "Has your voice not broken yet? If no, then that's a shock. Then again, you do look to be one of those late to maturity, so I suppose you have an excuse." The darker haired boy repressed a smile at the back-handed comment. "If yes, then stop squeaking. It's not helping your image."

The pirilla's jaw dropped, and the dark-haired boy snorted lightly.

"My sister always used to tell me not to leave my mouth open or a fly would fly in and I'd choke to death," he continued, not taking his eyes off the boy. He was aware, of course, of the rest of the other members of the Big and Stupid gang coming up behind him, but he'd deal with them when the time came to it. "I'd hate for that to happen to you."

He sipped his coffee again to hide his smirk as the pirilla shut his mouth.

"And would you please tell the rest of your gang that attacking someone from behind is not in the spirit of sportsmanship and I could have them charged with assault if they so much as touched me," he continued in the same tone as before.

He heard the rest of the group stop in their tracks.

"Also, if they want to successfully sneak up on someone, they should probably be quieter. The sound like fucking elephants." And there came the curse he was wondering about. Whenever he was insulting someone, the comments just seemed to slip out, fully formed and calculated for maximum damage upon impact. He generally didn't even think about what he said, which left his conscience to roam and detect any threats that happened to be around.

Which, with him being one of the Big Three children, there were generally a lot of.

This seemed to be too much for the black-haired boy who burst out laughing.

The kids the pirilla was beating up before looked confused at the sudden change in plans.

As the gorig (Nico had decided pirilla was getting old now) and co rounded on the other boy, Nico raised an eyebrow at them, the message clear: _Well, get up. He's not going to ignore you forever_. The kids got up, and Nico jerked his head to the side, again being very clear in the message he was sending: _If you want to get away, now's your chance_.

They scrambled away as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Nico smiled.

Then the gorig rounded on him.

"AND WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO CMOE HERE AND ACT LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE?" he roared.

"Oh good, your not squeaking," Nico said, just to annoy him. "I'd hate for that to be a permanent impediment for you. I mean, no-one would ever take you seriously with it. Then again, with that stupid look on your face that actually seems to be permanent, no-one takes you seriously anyway."

Everyone who had stopped to listen was stunned into silence.

The black-haired boy's lips twitched upwards again.

Nico nonchalantly sipped his coffee again, smiling patronizingly.

It was cold now.

The sight of Nico's condescending smile seemed to set off the gorig, who roared - yup, Nico could _definitely_ image him in a colony of gorillas - and swung at him with a giant meaty fist.

Nico ducked and, with speed that came from having to dodge Jason whenever he decided to randomly swing at him with his _gladius_, sent an uppercut that clocked the pirilla square in the chin.

He stood in stunned silence.

Nico tut-tutted patronizingly. "That wasn't nice," he scolded condescendingly.

"You ... You ..." The gorig/pirilla seemed to be lost for words.

"Yes?" Nico snapped irritably, all traces of mocking compassion gone from his face. "Hurry up, boy, I don't have all day. I'm a busy man."

"Your not much older then me!" The pirilla - Nico still didn't know his name - said, outraged.

"Yes, but I'm far more mature then you are."

The pirilla glared at him murderously.

Nico emptied the remaining contents of his now-cold coffee over his head - he was a good inch or so taller then the gorig.

Again, everyone was at a loss for words.

It was broken by the laughter of the black-haired boy.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach, tears running from his eyes.

Nico continued to glare frostily at the gorig.

The gorig and his minions ran in the opposite direction as fast as they could.

The dark-haired boy collapsed and was literally rolling on the floor - ground? - laughing. Nico allowed himself to crack a smile once the crowd dispersed.

Seeing the boy had now finished his laughing fit, Nico offered his hand up. "Need a hand?"

The boy grasped it, still wheezing. "I'm going to pay for that later, but the look on his face ..." he tailed off, snorting.

"What's your name, anyway? I don't recognise you, and your accent is definitely not British," he said, his green eyes - Nico not being able to see them beneath the mop of dark hair before - wide and curious.

Nico recognised those eyes.

They looked like Lacy's.

He quickly pushed the thought away and answered, holding out his hand again. "Nico di Angelo. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Harry Potter. Likewise."

With Harry

Harry wasn't above admitting to finding things good-looking.

Of course, that didn't mean he liked the way they looked as such, but he knew that there were many things that looked good in their own ways.

Things like Hermione in her simple, modest yet intelligent beauty; Hogwarts at night, in winter; he supposed if he were a girl Ron could be described as good-looking; even Aunt Petunia when she had the decency to smile; Ginny ... no, just Ginny.

As such, he was willing to admit that Nico had looks.

He was several inches taller then Harry, and two-or-so inches taller then Dudley. Even, Ron, who was pretty damn tall, was a good inch-or-so shorter then him. If Harry was to hazard a guess, he'd say Nico was about 6'1 or 6'2. He had a slim yet muscular build, like an athlete, long fingers like a pianist and seemed to be pretty well off as far as money was concerned - Harry had seen leather jackets and Doc Martins at times when Aunt Petunia dragged him along to shopping trips for Dudley, and they didn't come cheap. His face was sharp and angular, with high cheekbones that gave him an aristocratic image, arched eyebrows and narrow, slanted eyes that gave him a distinctly foreign, European look. Any innocence they could possibly contain was destroyed by the colour. It was black. A soulless, terrifying shade of black at that.

Were there different shades of black?

Whatever.

He remembered seeing a picture almost exactly the same two years ago on the television. Something about him and the Olympics or something ... he didn't know. He wasn't allowed to look at the television.

There were white bandages wrapping round both his forearms - the one on his left a little shorter then the right, but thinker at the wrist, so Harry could see the beginning of what looked like a black tattoo on his forearm.

'_Maybe he's a Death Eater_.'

The thought flitted through Harry's mind, quick as a snitch, but for some reason Harry didn't think so. He didn't seem like the type, for reasons unknown

But, still, Nico unnerved him, but he wasn't sure why.

Something about the eyes, Harry was sure.

Dark ... Haunted ... Accusing ...

Oh God.

It was the same boy from the graveyard two years ago.

Shit.


	3. AN (Very Sorry All)

**I know you'd all like an update, and I just ****have, like, one paragraph, and then the****next five are ready to go (okay, that's an exaggeration, but you get what I mean). I would have posted sooner, but my computer's****being a bitch and some of my keys aren't working (apostrophe, and the two between f and j. I must have copy-n-pasted more in the last few weeks then I have every other time combined). Quick question: major or minor bashing? There's a poll on my profile, please vote.**

**I'll try and get the next chapter up in the next month, but no promises. In fact, hold off your hopes for any quick chapters, because it takes ****_forever_**** to type. **

**Sorry all,**

**DD**

**P.S. Most of my other stories are on hiatus, purely because of bad writers block and my infuriating computer.**


	4. Albus Dumbledore

**Chapter Three - Albus Dumbledore**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, loads more people would have died, like most of the Weasleys, the Dursleys, and Harry himself. And Voldemort would have won. Only to have the ghosts of those who died come back to haunt him. And then kill him. Then end.**

**If I owned Percy Jackson, Annabeth would have turned traitor at the end of the Last Olympian, Jason wouldn't be Thalia's brother - heck, Jason wouldn't even be **_**in**_** the story - and a whole lot more shit would have gone down.**

**As you can probably guess by what I have said, I do not own HP or PJO/HoO**

**This chapter is in honour of Percabeth's anniversary - which, at the point of uploading this, was technically 1 hour, 29 minutes ago, but oh well.**

**Also, if you spot the Last Olympian and Lightning Thief references, kudos to you! Have a cookie! (::)**

The summer had probably been the best of Harry's life, which wasn't saying much, seeing as they'd all been horrid at best and jack shit at worst.

Currently, he was helping Percy out in the kitchen at Number Eight, Privet Drive. Well, he'd helped out earlier. Now he was sparring with Percy using a small half-bronze, half-gold dagger they'd leant him, and Percy was using a badly balanced kitchen knife, hitting Harry with the flat of the blade when he left himself too open to attack.

"Guard up Harry!" _Whap!_ "Not that far up!" _Whap!_ "Now back!" _Whap!_

Pretty soon, Harry was really looking forward to the bacon that was frying in the pan.

By the time Percy let him rest, the clock on the wall read 7:58. Nico should be up right about now - if he'd even _gotten_ to sleep - and God knows when Jason would be up.

About a minute later, there was the sound of something falling down the stairs, a groan, and a laugh.

Percy sighed, grabbed a wooden spoon and walked into the hallway shouting, "What is going _on_ here?!"

Nico was sprawled, face-down, on the floor at the base of the stairs, and someone was laughing from the top of the stairs. Jason, Harry would assume. He could dissolve himself into air, like Nico could with shadows, and Percy could with water. He had evidently snuck up on Nico and shoved him down the stairs. Harry knew Nico would make him pay for it later, though. That would be funny.

Percy poked Nico with the spoon. "Oi! Get up, or Jason's gonna step on ya."

Nico got up pretty quickly.

He collapsed on a chair, closely followed by Jason, who, despite having pushed Nico down the stairs mere seconds early, seemed to have decided it was much too early in the morning to be using energy. Harry was rather glad for that; Nico wasn't _bad_ at cooking, exactly, but Jason ... Harry shuddered. Any time Jason even _tried_ to cook, it ... how to put this delicately? ... spontaneously combusted.

"Thinking about Jason cooking, huh?" Percy muttered to him, noticing Harry's horrified expression.

Harry nodded numbly.

"Don't blame ya," said Percy sympathetically. "It's a nightmare. Frank and Octavian aren't much better."

Shortly after making friends with Nico, Harry found out Nico was an exchange student from Olympus Military and Combat Camps and would be going to Hogwarts the coming year. As a result, Harry had met almost all of the Jackson family, as they were collectively know, and told them all about Hogwarts and what little he knew on British Wizard Politics.

"There's a reason you and the general public don't know much on the inner workings of the Ministry," Nico had said. "Magical Britain is more corrupt then any other magical country. It's the magical version of North Korea."

He rolled his eyes in true Nico fashion.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Harry had said, unwilling to believe that the one place that had first accepted him to be truly as corrupt and isolated as he had just been told.

Percy, Nico and Annabeth - who was visiting - all arched an eyebrow at him.

"Alright Harry," said Percy, uncharacteristically serious, "what was the latest political scandal, in Magical France?"

Racking his questionable-at-best memory, Harry tried to recall any articles he had seen on French political scandals ... or any French thing, for that matter.

"Okay, you got me," he conceded. "But I don't read stories on French political scandals!"

"Exactly!" said Annabeth triumphantly. "Because there aren't any! The British Ministry doesn't want its people to know what's going on outside Britain!"

"But that's ..." Harry trailed off, wanting to say 'absurd', but all the pieces were falling into place. Why _were_ there no stories on anything foreign? Why were there so few foreign witches and wizards at the World Cup two years ago? Why was Fleur the only employee in any British-run business that wasn't from Britain?

_It makes sense_ said a voice in his head.

"Oh," he said, feeling like he needed to respond.

Another voice snorted. _Very eloquent._

_Like you could do any better._

_I could, actually, but _you _like to be in control, I can only settle for amusing comments and smart-ass commentary._

Percy grinned. "Just so you know the French Minister of Magic had a very Tiger Woods reminiscent downfall."

"Who?" Harry asked, curious.

Nico snorted, Annabeth smiled and Percy merely gave him a wide-eyed, naive look that fooled nobody. "Research it," he said innocently.

Needless to say, when Harry saw it, he was rather disgusted.

_Ugh,_ one of the voices had said.

In all honesty, conversations such as this were not uncommon in the Jackson household. This may be due to either a - Harry's naivety, b - the others' desire to rid him of this naivety, c - the fact that Harry spent more time around the Jackson household then his own, or d - a combination of all of the above. The most likely was probably "d".

It must be said, life at Privet Drive wasn't too bad now. This was due, in large part, to the 'positive emotions' ward around most of the neighbourhood, and a few more around the Dursley household in particular. Percy explained that they were fairly simple as far as wards went. They reinforced positive emotions and suppressed negative ones. They were one of the few types of wards with no direct negative side effects and were used heavily around magical juvenile detention centres in America. Any magical American family with a half-decent warder would have one around their house and local neighbourhood. Combined with Harry's lack of intrusive presence around Number Four, his relationship with the Dursleys had improved dramatically, especially with Dudley.

It was also due to Harry not being so worried about not being prepared to fight Voldemort. Sure, he had always been able to hold his own reasonably well until help arrived - something Harry generally put down to luck, good friends, and his good Defence against the Dark Arts abilities. Everything else, it must be said, he was piss-poor at on the whole. But now, he had other things to fall back on.

For one, his chances of actually being ambushed decreased thanks to several things, ranging from as simple as tuning out a conversation so as to listen to other things, to using Ligilimency to detect different minds, or, the most complicated and most accurate, learning to detect minute changes in the direction on the wind, or using magic to send out ultrasound waves like bats.

He had a diary/journal thing that Percy gave him. It wouldn't open for anyone he didn't want it to, and it was a bit like Tom Riddle's diary in that the ink would vanish, and it would respond if you asked a question that you legitimately wanted answering, but it wasn't a Horcrux, so he shouldn't worry.

This lead Harry to ask what a Horcrux was.

Which lead to a long discussion of Dark vs. evil.

Which lead to a long discussion on whether the ends justified the means.

Which lead to a long discussion on whether the sun did indeed shine out of Albus Dumbledore's wrinkly old arse.

Which lead to unpleasant mental imagery.

But back to the point.

Percy went back to humming something that sounded vaguely like Iron Maiden's 'The Number of the Beast' and turning over the bacon while Harry set the table, still arguing with those annoying voices.

"Morning," Nico yawned.

"Good morning," Percy said, overly-cheerfully, in what was an obvious attempt to annoy him, because Nico had never understood how people could be cheerful in the morning. Of course, given that he had a thirst for knowledge that rivalled Annabeth's, this meant that he consequently hated the matter.

His father was a morning person.

That didn't help his opinion on the matter.

Jason collapsed beside him, just as exhausted as he was.

This made Nico determined to at least not act so tired.

He and Jason would have helped, of course, but anything they did to do with cooking had a bad tendency to ... how to put this? ... spontaneously combust.

Needless to say, they didn't do 'cooking'.

"So ..." Jason said, trying to break the silence in the room (or stop himself from falling asleep. Which it is, we shall never know).

Nico arched an eyebrow. "So ... what?"

"Any plans for today?"

Nico rolled his eyes. "Since when do I do 'plans', Jason?"

"When you're riding into battle or something?"

If it had been anyone else, Nico would have tilted his head slightly and said "Point," but, as this was Jason, he could not concede. "Am I riding into battle right now?"

"Well no, but-"

"Exactly."

Harry and Percy rolled their eyes and sighed in unison.

_How annoying_, said one of Harry's many mental voices.

"Breakfast's ready," Percy said in a defeated tone.

"YUM!" exclaimed Jason, holding his knife and fork in his hands, eyes wide and looking very much like a cartoon character.

The remaining three rolled their eyes.

Over breakfast, the four started discussing what Hogwarts was actually like. Harry told them about the professors, the curriculum and extra-curricular activities, as well as expressing his own concerns about the failing standard of the school and the lack of anyone actually pushing them to do better. He admitted that, mostly, the only reason he got his homework done was Hermione nagging him to do it. He said that, sometimes, it was interesting, but no teachers - bar Flitwick, Sprout and Lupin - actually made the subject come alive and make them _want_ to learn it. McGonagall told them how important her subject was, but every other teacher was questionable at best in their teaching methods

In return, Nico, Percy and Jason told him about camp, what the Olympics were actually like, and also multiple survival tricks. They taught him the true basis of magic, and how, really, wandless magic was more powerful, not less, then magic with a wand, as you didn't have the wand absorbing your magic - that was why magical cores such as phoenix feathers were used, to prevent magical absorption as much as possible.

The one topic that had been avoided as much as was physically or mentally possible was, of course, family. That was a sore spot for everyone (Harry was an orphan, Nico might as well be one, Percy's father was 'lost at sea' as far as the general public was concerned, and Jason had never known either his father or his mother).

Harry was brought back into reality upon Nico saying, "What do _you_ think, Harry?"

"Hmm?" he asked.

His smart mental-voice sighed irritably. _Honestly, don't you ever listen? _

_Well I'm sorry if I had other things on my mind._

_You should always be learning things._

_That's what I have you for, isn't it?_

_Fine then._

Honestly! Really, Harry liked the voices and all (they were good company whenever the Dursleys locked him in the cupboard under the stairs or, in recent years, his bedroom - which wasn't much bigger, in all honesty) but _damn_ they were pretentious at times.

Anyway, they all helped clean up after breakfast. Percy left almost immediately ("I leave Camp for two days and everything goes wrong," he moaned. "Annabeth tries, but Theo's really a handful. Not to mention that there's _so - much - paperwork!_"), closely followed by Jason ("My manager is possibly the most stubborn man ever. No rest for the wicked, I suppose." "Who's your manager?" "My uncle.")

Soon after, Nico and Harry left the house ("I don't have any training or anything," Nico said. "I limp too badly to run professionally anymore," here, he pulled a face, "and there's no filming for the new film until October, so I'm free." If you're confused, Nico, Percy, Jason, Piper, Annabeth, Leo, Octavian, Thalia and Reyna all double as actors. They joined in one collective film trilogy - The Hollywood Drama series (Hollywood Drama I, Hollywood Drama II: What now? And Hollywood Drama III: The Way Out (to be released April 2015)) and Nico had also been the "bad guy" in some horror film or other. Really, whatever it was couldn't compare to the Hollywood Drama trilogy - those movies were fucking hilarious.) Soon, Nico attested to his ability to be a comedian upon starting possibly the most ridiculous debate they had ever had.

"Nu-uh. Baseball _so_ beats soccer."

"No way. And its _football_, _honestly_."

"Not for me. I'm American, remember?"

"Technically, you're half Italian, half British."

"I dont count the British side, as you well know. And I was raised in America, I represented America at the Olympic ames and my home is in Kansas, in America. Therefore, I'm American."

"Let us not forget that incredibly annoying accent of yours."

"Now you're just being petty."

"Very true," Harry agreed. "Anyways, football will always beat baseball."

"Never!"

"What're you talking about?" asked Dudley, approaching them from across the street.

"Whether baseball beats soccer - which it _totally_ does."

"Its football. And you're both wrong; rugby owns your faces."

"Football beats _all_ other sports - and I _told_ you its football!"

"I disagree. And its not football if you're American - its _soccer_."

And so they continued.

It was a mere two weeks into the holiday that Harry got Dumbledore's letter. Feeling an uncharacteristic surge of rebelliousness, Harry ignored it - at least, partially. He would "accidently" be late, temporarily take away the filter between is brain and mouth (which, in all honesty, hadn't been on since he'd become friends with Nico nearing three weeks ago) and basically be the smart-ass he was infamous for being around Privet Drive.

He was looking forward to it.

Albus Dumbledore walked up Privet Drive at exactly 11:00 pm that Friday. Almost absently, he noticed that, apparently, Number Eight had sold. It looked to be fairly nice. Rapping neatly on the door, he waited patiently for it to open. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Petunia Dursley appeared in the doorway.

"Oh," she said. "It's you."

Was it just him, or was her voice lacking its usual bite of hatred?

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I was wondering if Mr Potter was here?" he continued, eyes twinkling.

Petunia brushed it off. "No. he's with the Jacksons."

"Who?"

"The Jacksons," she repeated, as though he was stupid.

Seeing his still-confused expression, she elaborated: "They moved into Number Eight recently. Good thing too. I don't know what they did, but the boy as been far more bearable this past summer. Spends most of the day out, comes back around midnight, and is up and making breakfast by six. If he spends the night out - it has happened before - then there'll be food on the doorstep." She cast a disapproving eye at him. "Finally started pulling is weight round here. No thanks to you."

"May I wait inside?" he asked, ignoring the last part of her statement.

Petunia sniffed. "If you must." She opened the door to let him inside. "Shoes off by the door."

A few seconds later, he was sitting in the living room with a glass of water, a crumpet and a newspaper in front of him. He didn't know why, but the Dursleys seemed to be much more accepting of magic recently. It was frustrating, truly.

An hour and ten minutes later, a slightly obnoxious voice sounded from the doorway. "We're home!"

"You don't live here Nico!" said two others.

"Yeah, but who cares?"

"Maybe I care," said a voice that sounded like Harry's.

"What influence do you hold here?"

"I'm Harry-Freaking-Potter. What more do you want?"

"You hold little to no influence in the celebrity world and so, your opinion carries no weight. Mine, on the other hand ..."

"Shut it di Angelo."

Dumbledore started. Di Angelo? As in, Maria di Angelo?"

Petunia bustled to the door. "Hello Nico! It's good to see you again."

"You too, Mrs Dursley. How's your husband?"

"He's fine."

"That's good. I shall be taking my leave."

Dumbledore got the feeling that this was the point where the stranger bowed.

"_Au revoir_!"

"Stop speaking French!" Harry said.

There was a sound of laughter, and then the door closed. Looking out of the window, Dumbledore saw a tall boy with black hair limp down the drive. He was … unusual, to say the least. Most obvious was how you couldn't hear him walk along the gravel drive, or how he seemed to glide even though he favoured his left leg badly.

A few moments of conversation later, Petunia finally brought up the fact that Albus Dumbledore was in the living room.

Harry swaggered into the living room.

"Yo Teach," he greeted jovially, sprawling on the opposite sofa like he owned the world. How's it hanging? More to the point, why are you ere?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I do believe I sent a missive informing you of my prescience this evening."

Understanding dawned on array s face. "OH! Was that today? Or rather, yesterday. Sorry Professor. Been busy, y know? What with the You-Know-What n all …" he trailed off.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied curtly, still rather miffed at a - being left waiting, and b - being spoken to in a blatantly disrespectful manner. "May I talk with your relatives?"

"Sure!" Harry replied, just as unperturbed as before. "Oi Tuney!" he called. "Big D! Could ya come in ere? Dumbles wants ta talk to ya. And Vernon, too."

Without any semblance of reluctance, the Dursleys filed in. Dudley sat on the arm of the sofa, with Vernon and Petunia next to him. Harry remained sprawled on the other end of the sofa.

Suddenly, he jumped up and had his wand at the headmaster's throat in less than a second. "Who," he said coldly, a far cry from the jovial and informal tone he had previously used, "did you send to give me my Hogwarts letter?"

"Rubeus Hagrid," Dumbledore replied.

Grinning, Harry pulled his wand away from the Headmaster's throat. "Sorry, sir," he said, sliding back into the informal tone and easy grin, "needed to make sure you are who you say you are, and not that you aren't but saying you are even though you aren't, cause if you aren't who you said you are, you wouldn't have been able to answer me question designed to determine if you are who you say you are. Luckily, you passed, and so, I believe you are, in fact, who you say you are. And yes, that was purposefully phrased in an attempt to confuse you."

He turned on his heels and strutted back to the sofa, before sprawling languidly across it again.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore said, trying to act like he had followed what Harry had said. "There are a few matters which must be settled. The main problem is that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned."

"Yes," Harry said mildly. "Cant say I'm surprised." He looked sharply at Dumbledore. "Mind if I get a coke? I'm kind of thirsty, see. Just got back in. Been out all day with D and Nico."

Dumbledore made a "go on" gesture. "Of course."

Harry looked at Dudley. "Want one, D?"

Dudley smiled. "Yeah, please."

"Tuney? Vernon?"

Both nodded affirmative.

"Professor?"

"I'm afraid I must decline."

Harry nodded and waved and. Four Coca Colas came zooming into the living room, hovering above Petunia, Vernon, Dudley or Harry.

Harry opened is coke and took a sip. He smacked his lips appreciatively. "Good stuff, that," he said. He raised his can almost mockingly towards Dumbledore. "Cheers."

He mimicked Dumbledore's earlier "go on" gesture. "You were saying?"

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore carried on. "The slightly problematic part of this is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Harry pursed is lips. "Keep using it as headquarters, if you must," he said dismissively, "I don't care. I wont be able to set foot in there without thinking about how Sirius seemed to leave one prison for another." he looked Dumbledore up and down critically. "Really, it wouldn't have killed him if you just let him o to the park every once in a while in dog form. Claim he was Tonks's and she was taking him for a walk or something. Then again, logic has never been a magical s strong point, but _really_."

Dumbledore took another deep breath. "That is generous," he said. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

Harry sipped his coke again. "Is it within my rights to ask?" he said wryly.

"Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line to the nearest male with the name of Black. Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless," Dumbledore said stiffly. "While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pure-blood."

Thinking of the shrieking portrait of Mrs Black in the hallway, Harry smiled slightly sadistically. "I'll bet there has," he muttered.

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then ownership of the house would likely pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry snorted into his coke can. "Good luck bitch," he muttered. "I'd fucking kill her first n consider it a service to the community."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it," said Dumbledore calmly - or as calmly as one can be when one's Golden Boy made his homicidal tendencies very clear.

"Let me guess," Harry drawled. "I have to perform some task that proves I do, in fact, own the house. Judging by previous experience, I'd call Kreacher, right?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher!" called Harry sharply.

*There was a loud _crack_ and a house-elf appeared, wit a snout for a nose, giant bats ears and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys shagpile carpet and covered in grimy rags.*

All three Dursleys gasped.

"What _is_ that?" shrieked Petunia.

"Kreacher wont, Kreacher wont, Kreacher wont," croaked the house-elf.

"Shut UP!" Harry bellowed. He grabbed Kreacher by the front of his grimy tea-towel. "You listen up right now you sorry excuse for a house-elf: _I'm_ your master now. You'll do as _I_ say, you'll do what _I_ want, and you'll shut up when I tell you to shut up, or your head will never go up next to your ancestors. Clear?"

"Yes sir," mumbled Kreacher reluctantly.

"Good," said Harry. "You've disgraced the house of Black wit your substandard behaviour, and while Sirius may have put up wit it, _I_ wont. I'm going to make this perfectly clear: you have one chance and one chance only to prove you can still do your job. I'm going to come back to number twelve someday; it might be tomorrow, might be ten years from now, but it better be _spotless_ when I do. I will not have you shaming the Noble and Most Ancient house of Black any longer."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Oh, and I forbid you communication with anyone loyal to Voldemort."

"Fine Master."

"Now be gone with you."

Kreacher vanished wit another loud _crack_.

Harry stared at the muck on the carpet where Kreacher had been. "Deeply sorry, Tuney. I'll just clean that up."

One quick wrist flick later, and the room was as spotless as it had been before.

"Anyway," Dumbledore continued, "would I be right to assume you have not packed?"

Harry shrugged. "I never truly unpacked, but I do have some shiz to put in my trunk. Oh, and some people to re-arrange plans with. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, my boy."

A few minutes later Harry was bringing his trunk down the stairs.

"Right," e said. "Lets go!"

"Wait just one minute!" said Tuney sternly.

"Yes, Aunt Tuney?"

"Are you sure you've got everything."

"Yes Aunt Tuney."

"Really?"

"Yes Tuney."

"All your scool books?"

"Yes Aunt Tuney."

"Did you empty the washer?"

"Yes Aunt Tuney."

"Did you get that brownie recipe from the Jacksons?"

"Yes Aunt Tuney."

"Okay then. Have fun!"

"Thanks Aunt Tuney."

After shaking hands with Vernon, giving Dudley a bro hug and promising to write, Harry was ready to o.

As soon as they were out tHe door, Harry said, "Alright, lets go!" He began walking off towards the park.

"Harry?" questioned Dumbledore.

"I told you, sir, I have plans to rearrange."

"Oh," said Dumbledore. "Of course."

Humming something that sounded like "Rocket Queen" by Guns n Roses (Harry did like that song), mentor and student strolled along in the moonlight.

Jeez, that could sound _so_ wrong

Harry's wrong thoughts aside, they soon neared Mongolia Crescent Park. Despite being padlocked (the park _did_ close, you know), Harry entered easily.

Dumbledore followed, slightly more hesitantly. "Harry," he whispered, for it seemed wrong to break the peaceful, if a little scary, silence, "are you sure you know what you're …" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Not that it mattered, arry got the point loud and clear.

Harry beckoned for him to follow, slipping into the silent park.

Well, that was a lie; it wasn't completely silent.

Gentle winds whispered in the trees, rustling the branches softly. Grass crunched under their feet and a rabbit, illuminated by the pale moonlight, scuttled into its burrow.

Beautiful, yet creepy.

Still humming, but a different tune (Don't Cry, Guns N Roses, again) harry carried on, Dumbledore still trailing behind like a lost puppy.

Suddenly, Harry stopped, the taller man almost crashing into him. The source of this abrupt chaos? A tall, dark-haired stranger.

Or at least, stranger to Dumbledore.

For he and Harry seemed to know each other pretty well, given the fact that were deeply engrossed in conversation already.

"Who's he?" asked the boy abruptly.

"Huh?" said Harry. "Oh, right. That's Albus Dumbledore, you already know the rest. Professor, this is Nico di Angelo, a friend of mine."

"I'd say it's a pleasure," said Nico rudely, glaring at him, "but it's really not."

Harry sighed. "You really can't be polite for once, can you?"

"Not to someone who might as well have murdered my mother!"

"Whatever. Got a fag?"

Nico smirked and handed him a cigarette. _You're just trying to shock him, aren't you? I __know__ you don't smoke._

_Very true_, said Harry, lighting the cigarette with a click of his fingers.

"Anyway," he said aloud, after taking a drag, "I'm off to the Weasleys now, so I can't do tomorrow. Or later today. Whatevs. Point is, I'm not available for the rest of the summer."

"Ah well," Nico said. "Shit happens. See you in September!"

"In September," Harry agreed.

Just as Nico was limping off in the direction they had just come from, his left leg making a metallic _clank_ noise each time it hit the ground, Harry called obnoxiously, "Remember to send me a birthday card!"

Nico gave him the middle finger and walked off.

Swallowing his doubt, Dumbledore said, "Well then, if that's all, we'd best be off."

"Indeed we should," agreed Harry, dropping the remains of his cigarette and crushing it under his foot. "Let us go."

**Holy shit this chapter was a bitch to write! I hope you've enjoyed it. I tried to put a different spin on the story then most people have - after all, in every one I've read, Hermione makes an effort to be close to Nico while Harry and Ron look on jealously and protectively. In this one, Harry and Nico are friends, and Hermione and Ron think Nico's a Death Eater.**

**Harry, of course, knows better.**

**Just to reassure you, Harry's not a delinquent in this; it was just an act to scare Dumbles.**

**Anyways, that's all from me for now,**

**Follow, Favourite, review etc.**

**DD.**

**P.S. I cant upload the next chapter till the I get a result on my poll. So get voting!**

**P.P.S. If you read the previous A/N, you'll know my keyboard isn't working properly. So sorry for any spelling mistakes; let the world witness I tried.**


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